


Ace

by lemonsorbae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baseball Player Dean, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Physical Therapist Cas, Pining Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a cocky Major League pitcher who's after the affections of the team's physical therapist, Castiel. Will he strike out? Or will their love be a home run? Find out by scrolling down. </p><p>(If you think I'm being serious with this shit summary then we probably don't know each other very well.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alatus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatus/gifts).



> Based off of [this](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/108984744991/jimmynovakisaved-archive-baseball-player-dean) post. Written for [appleblossomdean](http://www.appleblossomdean.tumblr.com)! -- Cross posted from [tumblr](http://herowords.tumblr.com/post/108988176396/ace).

“You brought the good stuff tonight, Winchester.” Victor says, his hand coming to rest on Dean’s shoulder. He gives it a tight squeeze and offers Dean a satisfied grin.

Dean glances at the catcher with a smile of his own plastered to his face. He’d just lead his team to victory with more outs than he’s had all season; there’s not much else that can touch what he’s feeling right now. “Just doing my job,” Dean offers.

“Yeah well, keep doing your job and we might just end up in the World Series.” Victor thumps Dean on the back once and then he’s disappearing into the locker room just ahead of Dean.

As soon as Dean steps into the locker room, the cheers of his teammates reverberate off the lockers and fill the room like a tangible thickness. Dean flushes and shakes his head; he’s never been good with praise.

Waiting for Dean at his locker is coach Singer, his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth pulled into a thin line. “Winchester,” he barks, “PT, now.”

A grin breaks out across Dean’s face. While he’s sure Bobby’s going to give him a drawn out lecture later on about how Dean’s over exhausting himself during the games and demand he be more careful, Dean’s been waiting all night to be sent to physical therapy.

Heaving his bag onto the nearest bench, Dean offers his coach a salute and heads off in the direction of the physical therapist's office.

***

Castiel flicks off the radio just as Dean saunters into his doorway and leans on the doorjamb. He’ll never admit to listening to the team’s games, especially not to their star pitcher and object of Castiel’s unadulterated loathing for the past six months, but he suspects Dean knows anyway if his satisfied smirk is anything to go by.

“Got a minute?” Dean asks as Castiel thumbs through the pile of charts he pulled just before the game ended. He’s become quite good at predicting who coach Singer will send down just after a game, and Dean Winchester’s file is at the top of the stack.

“You haven’t even showered,” Castiel points out, hating himself for giving Dean a drawn out once over. But for every ill-timed invitation to dinner, and lingering gaze that sends Castiel squirming, the man is devastatingly attractive and unavoidably charming. And damn him for being so.

Dean folds his arms over his dirt stained uniform - from sliding into second if Castiel recalls correctly - and smiles. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

Castiel huffs. “Yes, I’m sure you couldn’t.” He stands from his desk and brushes past Dean with barley a hint of acknowledgment for the other man, silently berating himself for the flush in his cheeks. “Let’s get some ice on your shoulder.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

The ice pack has to sit for twenty minutes. Castiel busies himself, hoping Dean will refrain from engaging in conversation, but that’s never worked in the past, and it doesn’t work now.

“You doing anything later?” Dean wonders.

“Yes.” Castiel lies, his eyes glued to Dean’s chart. He has Dean’s treatment memorized, has since week two of signing on with the team, but he cannot look at Dean’s face, so his eyes remain averted.

When the room falls silent, Castiel chances a glance at Dean, thinking perhaps he's turned his attention elsewhere. Instead he gets an eyeful of wide green eyes scanning his face, an easy smile playing at Dean’s lips. “How ‘bout tomorrow night then?”

Castiel turns his back, pulling out the supplies he’ll need for the next team member. “I’m busy.” Another lie, but at least Dean can’t see his face this time.

“You ever gonna go out with me, Cas?” Dean questions. Castiel wishes there were some sort of discouragement there, even a hint of weariness, but his words are just as confident as ever.

“It’s not likely,” Castiel answers. He checks the ice on Dean’s shoulder, repositioning it a little higher and handing Dean a timer. “When it beeps you’re done.” Not waiting for a response he turns and heads back towards his office.

“That wasn’t a no!” Dean shouts. Castiel can hear the smile in his voice.

 ***

“Isn’t this the guy that keeps asking you out?” Anna asks, pushing her gossip magazine across the counter. Castiel glances down at the page where a picture of Dean surrounded by upwards of twenty children - all holding brand new pairs of shoes - is staring back up at him.

“Yes.” Castiel admits, pushing the magazine back at his sister.

“I can’t imagine a guy who does that much charity work being as bad as you make him sound.”

Castiel keeps his eyes trained on the orange he’s peeling as he speaks. “Just because he does charity work doesn’t mean he’s not an asshole, Anna. Lots of celebrities make it a point to be photographed while being charitable to make themselves look better.”

Anna shrugs. “I dunno, he looks pretty happy.”

Castiel scowls. “Of course he looks happy, it’s a publicity stunt.”

“It says he’s been volunteering for the foundation for five years. Didn’t he go pro like, a year and a half ago?”

“So.”

“So, maybe he’s not doing it to be noticed, Cas. Maybe he’s just doing it because he really is a good guy. A good guy that you should give a chance.”

Castiel drops his orange peel into the garbage disposal and turns it on, flicking his gaze to meet Anna’s, unamused. She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t bring Dean Winchester up again for the rest of the day.

***

“ _Oh God, Cas, oh God._ ” Dean grits his teeth against the steady press of fingers, willing his body to relax against the pressure.

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice is low, rough.

Dean blinks up at Castiel, his neck twisting at an awkward angle to allow him to do so. Castiel’s cheeks are ruddy, his mouth pulled into a deep frown.

“You’re comments are very distracting. Please keep them to yourself.”

Dean ignores the comment. “Are you blushing?” He asks.

Castiel scoffs. “Of course not, it’s warm in here.”

Dean’s smile is cheeky as he responds, “Yes it is.” He relaxes back onto the massage table and lets out a sigh. The amount of sexual tension built up between him and Cas is growing insurmountable. If the guy would just go out with him they could see about doing something about it. But really, it’s not just about sex to Dean. It’s about wanting to see Cas smile, relax, let someone else in. It’s about Castiel giving Dean a chance to prove he’s not the stereotypical athlete Castiel thinks he is.

It’s about wanting to make Castiel happy.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean grunts as Castiel’s knuckles kneed into his shoulders.

“Yes?”

Dean clears his throat, a nervous tick. “Why won’t you let me take you to dinner?”

The silence that hovers between them is drawn out and uncomfortable before Castiel responds quietly. “I don’t date athletes. You know that, Dean.”

“So if I weren’t an athlete?” Dean wonders, hating how small his voice sounds.

Castiel’s answer is soft, apologetic. “Dean.”

Dean’s grateful his face is shoved up against the massage table. He doesn’t think he could stand Castiel’s pitying stare.

***

As soon as Castiel sees Dean, tucked in a booth in the far back corner, he knows he’s been had.

He should have known better when Anna suggested lunch at a sports bar, a scene neither of them frequent.

“What are we doing here?” He hisses, sliding into the seat across from Anna. She taps a finger on her menu and glances at him over the top of it.

“Having lunch.”

“Obviously, but why here?”

“Why not here?” Anna wonders, her eyes going doe-like.

Castiel huffs at her and opens his menu, holding it up high enough it could almost be considered comical. Maybe Dean won’t see him.

Anna shakes her head, but ignores Castiel’s immature behavior.

By the end of lunch Castiel is feeling somewhat bad for Dean. Despite having a baseball cap pulled low over his face and being flanked by coach Singer on his left, and a small child on his right, obviously trying to enjoy some personal time, he’s been approached no less than four times in the space of an hour by fans.

Castiel’s watched Dean greet them all with a welcoming smile on his face, and no signs of irritation to be found, and he’s annoyed with himself to find he’s smiling, too. It seems Dean Winchester’s charisma can be affective even from across a crowded restaurant. Damn that man.

It’s when Dean’s waitress is dropping his check off that Dean catches Castiel’s gaze from across the room. He grins wide, brilliantly, like he’s genuinely happy to see Castiel, and Castiel, caught off guard, offers Dean a nervous wave.

_Yes, Castiel, get caught staring at the man you’ve been pushing away for three months. Well done._

Minutes later, Dean is ushering the small child towards Castiel and Anna’s table, waving at Bobby over his shoulder, and nodding politely at people who do a double take in his direction.

Just before he approaches, Castiel shoots Anna’s empty seat an accusatory glare. Of course she slips off to the bathroom when Castiel could use her the most.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean greets. He reaches out his free hand to pat Castiel on the shoulder.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Small world, huh?”

Castiel nods. “Who is this?” He wonders, pointing down at the child who’s gazing up at Castiel with big, hazel eyes and his bottom lip held between his teeth. He looks a little like Dean.

“This is my baby brother, Sam. Sammy, this is Cas. Remember I told you he takes care of me when my muscles get sore?”

“I’m not a baby.” Sam says, defiance edging into his voice. He frowns at Dean, but Dean merely chuckles.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “you’re a big boy. Probably gonna outgrow me at some point, huh, kiddo?” He swings Sam into the air and rests the child on his shoulders. Sam’s frown melts and he lets out a giggle, jabbing his fingers into Dean’s eye and grabbing at an ear. Dean lets out an oof and Castiel fails to suppress a laugh.

 “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got a game tomorrow, gotta be able to see.” Sam smiles sheepishly.

 When Dean can see properly he glances at the empty seat across from Castiel. “You here alone?” He asks casually. Castiel’s initial instinct is to close up on Dean, lie, say he’s on a date, but he can’t find the malice inside himself to do so. Dean’s only ever been kind to Castiel, while a bit forward, and Castiel thinks maybe his original assumptions about the man are as inaccurate as Dean claims them to be.

“No, I’m here with my sister.” Castiel responds.

Dean smiles, relief apparent on his face. “Hope I didn’t scare her off.”

“No, not at all.”

Dean nods. “Well, Sammy and I better get going-”

“Yeah, Dean’s taking me to get ice cream.” Sam states.

“Is he?” Castiel asks, smiling softly up at the child. Sam nods. “That’s wonderful. I like ice cream.”

“Me too!”

“Ice cream, huh?” Dean asks, his eyes flashing with interest. “And here I was asking you to dinner when I should have been offering ice cream.”

Castiel feels his cheeks grow warm, “I-”

“’S okay,” Dean says with a smile, “I get it. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Castiel’s shoulders droop as he nods. “See you tomorrow.”

Sam waves as Dean throws a wink in Castiel’s direction. “Thanks for taking care of my brother!” Sam shouts as Dean heads for the door. Castiel waves back and watches the two of them go.

When Anna returns she looks towards the table Dean had been occupying. “I missed him?” She asks, slouching into her seat.

"How did you even know he would be here, Anna?" Castiel wonders, equal parts grateful and irritated with her.

"Someone on my twitter feed posted a picture of him, I recognized the menu."

Castiel shakes his head. “Stalking is a crime, Anna.”

She shrugs. “I happened upon the tweet, I didn’t go looking for it” she offers in her defense. “That isn’t stalking.”

Castiel lets out a heavy sigh just as their waitress passes by their table. “May we please have our check?” He asks, more than ready to hole himself up in his apartment and read until he falls asleep.

She grins at Castiel like she knows something he doesn’t. “It’s already been taken care of, sir, by the gentleman who just left.”

Anna laughs, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Castiel slumps back in his seat. “Thank you,” he mutters.

***

The cheer from the stands is deafening as the team makes their winning run.

Dean’s never played so hard in his life, his shoulder aching so deeply he almost sees stars, but it was worth it; respect and approval are written clearly on the faces of his teammates.

As Dean gathers his gear from the dugout, wincing as he throws his bag over his shoulder, he looks around at all the fans screaming his name. He really should go straight to PT, get his muscles worked out as soon as possible, but if there’s one thing he loves about his job it’s interacting with the fans.

With a broad smile on his face Dean approaches the seats nearest his dugout and waves, signing things that are thrust at him, and offering a thumbs-up for a few pictures. Coach has told him on more than one occasion that fraternizing with fans, especially right after a game, is frowned upon, but Dean can’t be bothered to give a damn. He has the best fans in the world.

“Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester!” Dean turns to find a boy no older than Sammy leaning over the wall separating him from the field, and waving his hands wildly in the air to get Dean’s attention.

Dean grins. “Hey, buddy!” He responds, moving closer so he can give the child a high five. The boy’s mother pulls him away from the ledge and offers Dean an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, he’s been talking about you the entire game.”

Dean lets out a laugh. “That’s okay. Hey, what’s your name, squirt?”

“Ben Braedon.”

“Ben?” Dean asks, pulling off his baseball cap and scrawling his signature on the bill.

Ben nods, smiling wide when Dean says his name. “You’re my favorite player on the whole team!” He animates, “I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

A lump rises in Dean’s throat, and a warmth blooms in his chest. It’s people like Ben that make his job worth doing.

“You know what, kid?” Dean asks, reaching up to settle his hat on the boy’s head. “I bet you’ll be even better.”

Ben’s face shines brighter than the moon as he looks up at the bill of the hat then at his mother. When he looks back at Dean all his teeth are showing, his smile even wider than before. “Thanks, Mr. Winchester!”

Dean winks at Ben. “You be good for your mom, okay, Ben?”

Ben nods, and his mother shoots Dean a grateful glance. “I will!” Ben promises.

Dean squeezes the boy’s hand and then his mother is tugging him away from the edge and towards the exit. Dean watches the two of them disappear into the crowd and heaves a sigh.

When no one else approaches him, Dean heads for the locker room.

***

When Castiel sees Dean heading his way he fears he’s going to pass out right there on the hard cement floor. He’s been watching the other man since the game ended, observing Dean pay service to his fans with a eyes lit up and genuine gratitude etched in his features, and just moments before Castiel had known everything it is he wanted to say to the other man. Now that Dean’s approaching, Castiel knows only the erratic thump of his heart.

As soon as Dean sees him, he stops, face falling. “I’m in trouble aren’t I?” He asks.

“You’re hurting,” Castiel points out, because he can see it in the way Dean’s holding himself, favoring his left shoulder and stepping gingerly with his right leg.

Dean steps closer, slowly, like Castiel is a wild animal. “I’m a little sore,” he admits.

Castiel nods, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. He catches Dean’s eyes tracking the movement.

“So,” Dean asks, a cheeky grin settling on his face, “did’ya watch me play?”

Castiel groans, his eyes rolling and his resolve crumbling to bits, a clump of dirt he’d originally thought was a rock. He crowds Dean up against the wall, fisting Dean’s jersey in his hands and glaring Dean down hot, and lustful.

Dean shifts slightly alleviating some of the pressure on his right shoulder, and guilt threads through Castiel.  _Some physical therapist I am._  The grin on Dean’s face melts that guilt though and replaces it with a surge of  _want_. He wants to feel Dean’s body this close to his own over, and over, and over again. He wants to learn Dean in every way he can. He wants to kiss Dean until he’s breathless and pliant.

“Thought you didn’t date athletes.” Dean mutters with a half smirk on his face when Castiel’s lips urge closer to the pitcher’s.

Castiel shakes his head, tightening his grasp in Dean’s shirt, and growls, “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Dean does exactly as he’s told.


End file.
